


The Devastating Truth Of Motel Coffee

by graywrites



Category: Girl Meets World
Genre: Break Up, F/F, Implied/Referenced Cheating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2016-08-26
Packaged: 2018-08-11 03:06:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7873765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graywrites/pseuds/graywrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>By the end of the night, there's nothing like the wallow filled inner monologue of doom to get some damage done. Maya learns the million dollar question, without really answering it at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Devastating Truth Of Motel Coffee

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt! "They don't need to know what you sound like in a hotel room." Third Part to the Maya Cheated series thing, since everyone seemed down for it.

Broken glass is caught in Maya’s knuckles as she stares at the bloodstained carpet of a cheap motel that she will leave by morning, and the most thought she can pool together from an exhausted, delirious mind, is: _how did I ever get here?_

It’s a good question, she notes, blinking away with her bleary eyes, but good questions are going unanswered tonight. Or, today. This morning. It’s two in the morning, and she grimaces at the digital clock, and it’s busted and on the floor, but it’s still working. It glows green in a room that’s only half lit by a dusty orange table lamp.

Maya wants to scream, but her throat is too hoarse. She lets out a dry laugh and glances around the little room. The paintings are on the floor with broken frames, and the walls are covered in skid marks and mud. The carpet is blood spattered with bits of a broken glass vase getting tangled in the woven fabric. The standing lamp is on the floor, and the light bulb inside has broken in three pieces. 

Maya certainly did her damage, didn’t she?

By now, damage is apparently all she can muster from anything she does. Just ask Riley. 

Maya grits her teeth and rubs at her eyes with her shoulder, not wanting to get glass near her face. 

She sighs, feeling bruises forming on her limbs, and is grateful for two things: One, nobody is staying in the room next to hers to alert the manager of her little tantrum, (They don’t need to know what she sounds like in this hotel room. Nobody does. Maya wishes she didn’t.) and two, she paid with cash, so they can’t track her credit card for the damages. 

She sighs, oh God, she sighs, because fuck it, she’s tired, and yes, she’s a bad person, and she can berate herself for that tomorrow, (the rest of her goddamn life) but right now all she really wants is a couple of hours of sleep. 

Coincidentally, that is the only thing she knows she will not get. 

She’d love to beg her brain to give her a rest so that she can save the whole ‘wallowing in self loathing’ thing for early tomorrow as she flees the broken scene, but if she’s being honest with herself, (what a first!) she knows she doesn’t really deserve it in the first place. 

And, you know, if she weren’t so fucking tired, maybe she’d try and go on justify ruining the best thing she’s ever had, or at least state the facts out in front of her to put her shrieking mind to rest, but frankly, she’s only half coherent as it is, and the tears are drying cold on her face, so when you get down to it, Maya is mostly dizzy.

Maybe she’s grateful for three things, the third being that a cold numbness is zeroing in on the burning part of her chest, somewhere between her ribs, you know, the place where you feel guilt clawing away at you. Clammy and bloody and cold in the middle of some cheap motel, numbness is the closest she’ll get to peace tonight. (Or maybe the rest of her goddamn life. But she’d deserve that, anyways.)

She sighs for maybe the eighteenth trillion time tonight, because doesn’t that just sum it all up, huh? With a shake of her head and a bitter grin, she sinks against the wall. 

What the fuck has she done?

Ha. Proposed, that’s right. After cheating. Cheating, on Riley Matthews, the most perfect person to have ever existed.

Why would she do that? She’s glad Riley didn’t ask. 

But Riley, being Riley, drew her own conclusions. But she was wrong. Because, see, it’s not that Riley’s not enough for Maya, of course she is, Maya loves Riley more than anything! 

But, see, Maya fucked up. 

And she can’t quite, in this current state, articulate _why_. Isn’t that the big question? Why.

Maya coughs out a little laugh. _Why_ is right.. She shakes her head again and closes her eyes.

Why would she do that? Why would she spend hazy nights with a girl from a bar who had eyes like faded ink and a smile that felt guilty against Maya’s lips? 

Why would she do that as Riley sat up for hours in bed, crying her eyes out? And why would Maya pretend that she didn’t know that Riley knew? 

They were both doing a lot of pretending that last month before… Well, before Riley left. That much Maya can admit. 

But even before then, Maya knew it would come to an end, right? Riley just… deserved more. Or just better. Not more. Maya was more than enough, but not in a good way. 

Maya feels like she’s rambling, if only a little. She might be a little drunk. 

So, it was ending anyways, right? So why does it matter how, huh? Because, you know, someday Riley will move on and find someone nice and be happier than she could ever be with Maya, and if Maya had to fuck up for that to happen, so be it, right?

And maybe Maya’s wrong, and the Universe just really wants them to be together, so she had to test it out, of course. 

She looks down with a heavy breath, then swallows hard.

So, Maya proposed. And Riley said no. And that’s fair, Riley has every right to say no. She made the right decision, Maya thinks. 

And someday Riley will be happy, with someone nice, even if her heart is broken now. So why is Maya surrounded by broken glass and blood in a motel room as rain pours down outside, uninterrupted by Maya’s dramatic inner turmoil?

_Why_. What a million dollar question. And, perhaps, a nice reminder that the world does not revolve around Maya and her personal tragedies.

**Author's Note:**

> Yo! Leave a comment and send a fic request at gayrilaya.tumblr.com/ask


End file.
